


The Fool Would Be King

by flockofcrows



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fakeout Makeout, Family, Hurt/Comfort, King Alistair, Marriage of Convenience, Political Marriage, Post-DAI, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flockofcrows/pseuds/flockofcrows
Summary: When the council issued King Alistair an ultimatum to produce an heir, this wasn't what they had in mind.
Relationships: Alistair/Morrigan
Comments: 64
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

Alistair stood awkwardly in one of the many ornate Orlesian palace halls, trying not to fidget as he waited for the formal introductions to start. 

Ever since it got out that the King of Ferelden intended to marry within the year, he had received invitation after invitation from various royal courts, Orlais being the most persistent. They may have looked down on Fereldans but they would not have missed the perfect opportunity for a peaceful reconquest by marriage. His council agreed that an Orlesian queen on the throne of Ferelden was a dangerous idea, yet protocol dictated he pretend to at least consider the possibility.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the rest of the Fereldan delegation standing a few paces behind him, just barely restraining himself from glaring at their damnably impassive faces. If his advisors hadn't been so worried about the Taint coursing through his veins and the Theirin line dying out with him, Alistair wouldn't have been forced to parade himself around in Orlais like a high-class whore, promising himself to the highest bidder. He had tried his best to avoid a strictly political marriage for this very reason, fearing how impersonal and loveless it was bound to be, but love had been eluding him for the past decade and his council had finally run out of patience, giving him an ultimatum to marry someone of his own choice and produce an heir before the end of the year unless he wanted the nobles to choose someone for him. 

Whatever hopes of belonging to someone who cared about him he had still clung on to had been thoroughly dashed, his mood plummeting until even the servants had started whispering about how melancholy the king had gotten. He had spent many a night staring into the fire in his chambers, listlessly sipping a goblet of wine, trying to figure out what was so wrong with him that no one, not his father, not Eamon, not Teagan, not even his supposed sister could be bothered to love him. Occasionally, he had tried to chase the loneliness away with reading through the stack of letters he had received from his friends over the years, leafing through them over and over again until his fingers had worn the parchment thin, but ink on paper couldn't replace what was missing in his life.

He had thought about ignoring the council's warning, an old, forgotten part of himself rearing up in him, but shirking his duty would have lead to another civil war as soon as he stepped out of the palace to leave for the Deep Roads. 

And so he had come, standing in front of a group of Orlesian nobles with family ties to Empress Celene, at least four of whom were fully intending to marry him. One of them, a slender woman with several overly intricate ornaments in her dark hair, was batting her eyelashes at him from behind her mask and he quickly tore his eyes away to avoid encouraging her, only to be drawn to a familiar figure in the crowd. 

The air stuttered out of Alistair's lungs, his jaw slacking for a moment before he remembered to close it.

Morrigan was talking to the Empress' Champion, an inviting smile playing around her full lips. She looked well, relaxed and comfortable surrounded by the glamor of the court, the glittering studs of her Orlesian gown making her look radiant. She wore no mask, her face on full display, no doubt a small scandal in and of itself if Alistair's own experience at court was anything to go by.

She turned away from the Champion, dismissing the man with a small nod like she was the Empress herself, and turned her attention to the ball, those fascinating yellow eyes regarding the crowd critically. Alistair found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to notice him, standing stock still as servants and nobles alike buzzed around him.

She paused as her eyes finally locked with his, the regal air surrounding her replaced by wariness. Alistair wanted to go to her immediately even though he had no idea what to say but the horns signaling the Empress's arrival sounded sharply across the hall.

Alistair could barely pay attention to the introductions; half of his own titles sounded made up on the spot, and he didn't care what his suitresses chose to call themselves either. He plastered his best bland smile on his face and greeted all of them with equal dispassion, his mind too preoccupied with what Morrigan could possibly be doing at the Orlesian court. Nothing good, he wagered.

He sneaked a quick glance at her from the corner of his eyes. She had made her way to the Empress's side, standing half a step behind the nobles so as not to draw attention to herself, yet she stood out with her dark gown and total disregard of Orlesian mannerism. She still wore her hair as she had during the Blight, so similar to and yet so different from her old self Alistair had a hard time believing she was really standing a few feet away from him. 

And then he was even closer, the herald of the ball introducing him to the marquis standing right beside Morrigan. Alistair nodded at the old man, as pleasant as he could bring himself to be without letting it slip just how annoyed he was growing with the farce of their games, and tried his hardest not to look at Morrigan again. He failed, his eyes meeting hers over the shoulder of the marquis who was now boasting about his family being descended from some Orlesian hero of legend. Alistair ignored him, an idea forming in his head. Something must have shown on his face because Morrigan's eyes flashed at him in warning but he ignored that too. He wanted to get under her skin, for old times' sake if nothing else. Maker, but he missed those days when all he had to worry about was stopping a Blight.

"Lady Morrigan, Arcane Advisor of Empress Celene," the herald of the ball finally said.

Alistair stepped up to her, a wry smile on his face. It was now or never.

He reached out to offer his hand, waiting. Morrigan gave him a warning look but when he didn't back down, she reluctantly placed hers in his palm. Not taking his eyes off of her face for a second, he slowly bowed down and kissed the back of her hand.

"You are breathtaking, my lady," he said with the barest of smirks. 

A heavy pause came over the hall, the crowd around them momentarily quieting. 

Morrigan's eyes narrowed, clearly irked for having to force back whatever biting remark was on her sharp tongue, lest she cause a minor diplomatic incident.

"Your Majesty." Her tone was just polite enough to mask the underlying sarcasm he was so familiar with.

A Fereldan delegate cleared his throat behind him and Alistair straightened up, eyes glued to her form even as he stepped up to the next noble in line to continue with the tedious introductions. Morrigan's gaze followed him, unreadable. 

The crowd started murmuring around them again, masked heads turning to each other in shock. Alistair half remembered that according to Orlesian royal etiquette, a king was not supposed to bow down to kiss just any lady's hand, but Orlesian royals could go hang themselves for all he cared. It had been worth it for Morrigan's glare alone.

The evening proceeded as he had feared. The nobles in attendance did their best to curry his favor for themselves or their daughters, though he had lost count of just how many backhanded compliments he had received. He decided it was time to make a hasty retreat when a masked marchioness tried to wind her arm around his, her fingers settling around his bicep as she murmured something breathlessly about his "barbarian strength".

He managed to find a quiet corner away from prying eyes, painfully aware of how much he stood out in his Fereldan furs. He tried to spot Morrigan in the sea of masks again but she had disappeared. The Morrigan he knew wouldn't have balked at his teasing but he had admittedly put her in a weird spot by showing more interest in her than in all his suitresses combined, even though he had merely wanted to provoke her.

When a masked servant interrupted his thoughts by offering him wine, Alistair took the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity.

"Excuse me?" The servant looked up, surprised, obviously unused to being acknowledged by any of the nobles. "Since when has the Empress's mage, Lady Morrigan, been at court?"

"Her presence has been known for years, Your Majesty," the servant said with a small bow. "Rumor has it she won't be around for much longer, though. They say she's on the run from someone."

"From whom?" Alistair asked, confused, wine forgotten.

"No one knows for sure but some say it has something to do with her son."

Her son...?

Something clicked in the back of Alistair's mind and he nearly swallowed wrong.

_Oh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I could trick my perfectionism by posting the first chapter of this fic only once I was about 80% done with writing the whole thing. Joke is on me, my perfectionism made me start rewriting what I've already written. Oh well, I think this is at least better than the first version.

He first set eyes on the boy in the garden. Alistair was in the middle of casually discussing possible trade arrangements with some Fereldan nobles when he caught sight of two dark figures in the distance emerging from the greenery surrounding the palace. He trailed off mid-sentence, forgetting all about what point he had been trying to make. Eamon gave him a questioning glance but picked up where Alistair had left off with practiced ease, dutifully saving his king from looking like a gaping fool.

While Eamon had the group's attention, Alistair stepped away from them, walking purposefully towards Morrigan and the boy before he had a chance to convince himself running in the opposite direction was the better idea.

Morrigan glanced at him as he walked closer, doubt and something strange flashing in her eyes, before an excited sound drew both of their attention. The boy was watching two young Mabaris tousle on the neatly cut grass just ahead of them, his eyes following them as they ran around the bushes. He seemed like an ordinary child of twelve, not the darkspawn-like nightmare Alistair's imagination conjured up whenever he failed to force that particular worry back into the depths of his mind.

One of the dogs stepped back from the play-fight and shook its body, turning to face the boy with a curious look in its intelligent eyes—before bounding toward Alistair. When the boy followed right after the Mabari, Alistair had to fight down his rising panic. The Fereldan delegation had brought a number of dogs with them for protection and prestige, almost all of them Mabaris, but Alistair suddenly wished to have strong words with the bastard that blighted dog belonged to.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself, leaning back against a tree with carefully faked nonchalance as the boy came to a stop in front of him. Alistair swallowed and glanced at Morrigan. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to stop her son, pulling out a small journal instead and sitting on a nearby bench, waiting. It was better to get it over with as fast as possible, he supposed.

"I was wondering where these two rascals went," Alistair said as jovially as he could force himself to be. "I hope they aren't bothering you."

"They aren't, Your Majesty," the boy replied politely, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"No, no, please don't call me that," Alistair said, almost spluttering. "Just Alistair is fine."

"Nice to meet you, King Alistair. My name is Kieran."

Kieran. That was a good name. He was a spitting image of his mother, pale, thin, and dark-haired, yet he was missing the hardness that lurked in Morrigan's every pore. Alistair had been certain the boy would inherit his mother's yellow eyes too, so unusual and striking they were, but the pair of brown eyes not unlike his own looking up at him were like a punch in the gut.

"Pleased to meet you, Kieran," he said. "You're Lady Morrigan's son, right?"

"Yes. That was supposed to be a secret while we stayed at court but..." He shrugged his slight shoulders. "Everyone knows it now."

"Are they giving you trouble for it?" Alistair asked, surprised, and leaned down absently to scratch one of the dogs behind his ear. 

The Mabari sat down and let himself be pampered, a blissful expression on its wide muzzle. Alistair noted with some consternation that the dog had the royal kennel's tag on his intricate collar which meant the bastard he belonged to was technically Alistair himself.

"Not yet, but Mother expects they will, eventually," Kieran said.

"Well, that's not good," Alistair replied, too distracted by just how strangely mature Kieran sounded.

Something was definitely off about the boy, though it was more puzzling than alarming. Alistair wondered if that was the influence of the archdemon or just Morrigan. His throat tightened as an image of Connor ran through his mind, smiling cruelly, at the mercy of whatever demon was possessing him. His son (Maker, his _son_) couldn't be like that, could he? The people at court would have mentioned it if he was an abomination, if the child-like innocence was just a facade.

He forced his attention back to the present, noticing one of the dogs sniffing at Kieran's hands with great interest.

"I think he likes you," he said with a chuckle.

Kieran let the dog nuzzle his hand before tentatively scratching him behind his ear.

"I like him too. It's good to finally play with someone."

The smile he hadn't even realized was there withered from Alistair's lips.

"Are you lonely?" he asked quietly.

The boy shrugged.

"Only since Urthemiel was taken but Mother doesn't like it when I talk about that with strangers."

Taken? Right, he'd have to address that particular detail with the witch. Alistair was looking forward to that conversation like he was looking forward to shoving his hand into a buzzing beehive.

"Hey, I just thought of something," Alistair said and straightened up, whistling to get the dogs' attention. Both of them perked up immediately, going still yet expectant.

"You think you could use a Mabari as a bodyguard?" he asked Kieran.

The boy's eyes brightened and he nodded enthusiastically.

'Cute,' Alistair thought, surprising himself for a moment. Whatever his son was, he was clearly no archdemon.

"Alright. These two are from the royal kennel and they haven't imprinted on anyone yet," he explained, then crouched down and gave the boy a conspiratory smile. "They're technically war dogs but they know fun tricks, too. Want to see what Squire here can do?"

Alistair went through every basic command he remembered, teaching Kieran both the words and the silent hand movements that were often used on the battlefield. The Mabari carried out each task perfectly before sitting down with an expectant gleam in his eyes, demanding scratches.

Kieran turned out to be a quick study. By the time Alistair ran out of commands to teach him, he and Squire had warmed up to each other enough that he felt confident they would get along just fine. He secretly hoped the Mabari would imprint on the boy sooner or later but even if he didn't, he'd still make a good guard.

"I hope Mother lets me keep him," Kieran said when Squire flopped down next to his legs.

"Is your mother harsh with you?" Alistair asked, absentmindedly scratching the second Mabari behind her ear.

"No, she's nice," Kieran said.

Nice wasn't how Alistair would have described Morrigan, though it was apparent Kieran loved her. He turned to look at the witch contemplatively. She was still reading that journal, or at least pretending to do so, seemingly ignoring their little reunion. Alistair would have expected her to whisk Kieran away as soon as he got close to him and yet she was letting the chance meeting happen.

"Well, if she's nice then you don't mind if I go talk to her, do you?"

Kieran shook his head, already distracted by the dogs. Alistair smiled to himself and stood.

He approached Morrigan warily. He still wondered what she was doing at court, though thoughts of Kieran overshadowed his previous worries. He cocked his head as he came to a stop in front of her, eyes lingering on her face. 

Time had been kinder to her than it had been to him, her face as youthful as it was in his memories. Something was amiss about her though, something he couldn't quite place.

Morrigan slowly lifted her yellow eyes at him. Maybe it was just the light of the setting sun reflected in their depths, but they seemed more vibrant than ever, all but glowing in the shadows. Alistair swallowed hard, waiting for her usual biting words. When none came, he slowly sat down next to her on the bench.

"Careful how you conduct yourself, Your Majesty," Morrigan said without turning to him, voice quiet but firm. "We are being watched. Orlesians love nothing more than scandal and gossip, you understand."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in silence for a while before Alistair forced himself to speak again.

"I hear the boy is called Kieran."

"Indeed," she said without looking at him.

So she wasn't going to make this easier for him.

"He seems like a good kid."

"Are you truly surprised by that?" she asked.

"It's... not what I expected but it's a relief. Did you tell him anything about— about his father?"

"I told him his father was a good man."

There it was again, that spark of warmth he had seen earlier. He couldn't tell if it was in her voice or in her eyes, or in the expression on her face, but it fell softly around her like small, black feathers. Maybe it was in her words, in the praise she directed at him so unexpectedly.

"But nothing more," Morrigan continued before he could think of a reply. "Surely you understand why 'twas safer to preserve his ignorance. Mother is already after him, I didn't need your rivals hounding him as well."

Alistair frowned. Kieran had made no mention of Flemeth. He opened his mouth to ask Morrigan about it but Kieran came running toward them, laughing, Squire bounding after him.

"Mother, can I keep him?" the boy asked, out of breath, as he came to a stop in front of Morrigan.

"Now, now, do not get attached, little man. I am sure His Majesty does not wish to part with his war hound."

"Oh, he isn't mine. I gave him to Kieran," Alistair chimed in, smiling cheekily when Morrigan looked daggers at him. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Let him keep the dog at least until you leave court. Might not do much against Flemeth but should the Orlesians try anything funny, he can serve as a little extra protection."

Morrigan seemed to search his eyes before nodding.

"Very well. The hound may stay."

"Thank you, Mother!" Kieran said. "And thank you, King Alistair."

"Anytime," he replied automatically, then repeated himself more firmly. _"Anytime."_

Kieran nodded at him, then called out to Squire as he ran back to the other Mabari patiently waiting in the shade.

"I have not seen him this spirited in quite a while," Morrigan said. "Although I expect I shall regret this as soon as your mongrel decides to help himself to my dinner."

"I'm told he's a very well-behaved dog," Alistair said, trying for levity before a frown made its way onto his face, his voice growing quiet. "I just didn't know what else I could do to help Kieran." Then a little louder: "You shouldn't have brought him to Orlais."

Morrigan snorted beside him.

"The court was safe enough when no one knew he was my son. 'Tis no longer so," she said, voice low, eyes still trained on the boy. "But you need not concern yourself with it. We shall be gone from court soon enough and then I shall only have Mother to worry about."

"If you need help—"

"'Tis nothing I can't deal with on my own, although I suggest you say goodbye to him now if that is something you are inclined to do. We shall likely be gone by the time your visit is officially over."

Alistair's frown deepened.

"That's not a lot of time."

"No, I suppose it isn't."

Staying away would have been logical, Alistair knew. The boy would be gone in a week or two; it was too short a time to get to know him but just enough to get attached. The relief of knowing he hadn't unleashed unspeakable evil upon the world by participating in the ritual should have been a good enough closure.

He looked over at where Kieran was still playing with the dog who would protect him in Alistair's stead. He felt a strange pull in his chest, the gradual realization of a missed opportunity passing him by.

He tore his eyes away and looked at Morrigan.

"I..." he started but fell silent. "I wanted to thank you."

Morrigan's eyebrows rose imperceptibly.

"Thank me?" she asked, tone inquisitive rather than biting.

"I mean," Alistair fumbled for words, "for letting me meet him. And for giving him a good life. For... for being there for him."

"'Tis not something you should thank me for," Morrigan said, her voice quiet but firm.

"Trust me, it is."

He couldn't even begin to tell her how much that mattered to him, how much more that was than what he had got, how much he would have hated himself if Kieran had grown up the same way he had. 

He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed and feeling out of his depth.

"I should go," he said and stood, righting his tunic and furs with a few hasty tugs.

"You should," Morrigan agreed and slowly rose from the bench as well. "Unless you want us to be the talk of the court."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he asked with a grin that he hoped hid his disappointment.

For a single moment, he had wished she would stop him from leaving. She had no reason to do so but still he hoped he could have a place in his son's life, another chance at... something.

He looked at Kieran, his heart a heavy weight in his chest.

"Alright, just give me five more minutes with him and I'll be gone."

Naturally, his five minutes had come and gone sooner than he had expected. He glanced at the Fereldan nobles still chatting a ways away, his eyes meeting Eamon's. Rather than the impatience he expected to see in the man's gaze, Alistair was met with sharp curiosity.

He looked away and back at Kieran, smiling as he gave Squire one last scratch behind the ears.

"You know, if you're ever feeling lonely, you can always come talk to me," he said.

"But you're the King of Ferelden. Aren't you busy?" Kieran asked with a very serious little frown.

Alistair laughed.

"Don't worry about that, I'm always in need of an excuse to get away from the Orlesians."

He didn't really expect Kieran to actually seek out his—a complete stranger's—company but he could always hope.

He straightened up as Morrigan stepped up to them, nodding to her in thanks. He watched her and Kieran as they walked back towards the palace, Squire following behind. 

Alistair could hear one of the Banns calling his name but he lingered, a desperate idea forming in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it's weird how both Morrigan and Alistair had abusive childhoods. I believe Morrigan rejects people being concerned for her in DAO because she never received any love and care from her own mother, so she rationalized that with the idea that she doesn't NEED anyone's care and gentleness, and that the mere notion of her needing or wanting it is insulting to her. I do think she still yearns for it deep down but there's too much pain attached to it so she just rejects the whole package.
> 
> And then comes Alistair who yearns for love just as much as she does but he's open about it and that just pushes all the wrong buttons in her. He has been neglected in his childhood just as she was but instead of becoming bitter and rejecting, he idealizes love and family. Watching his Fade dream of being part of a "big, happy family" is kind of painful because it's so far removed from reality.
> 
> I think they both have issues that would make their relationship fraught in the DAO timeline but once Morrigan has Kieran and learns to receive unconditional love AND life hardens Alistair so he lets go of some of his idealism? They would be perfect together.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed both the chapter and this mini ship manifesto!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic keeps growing longer and I keep cutting the chapters in half for the sake of faster updates.

"If I have to listen to one more Orlesian throw a fit because I supposedly stole his kill, I'm going to run screaming all the way to Denerim," Alistair said as the heavy gates of the palace slowly opened in front of the Fereldan delegation. "And here I thought a hunt would be better than attending parties."

"Patience, Alistair," Eamon chided him, steering his horse next to him. "There is only the Antivan court left after Orlais."

"I can hardly wait," Alistair said absently.

He was staring off into space as his men and their pack of Mabaris slowly marched toward the royal stable. He was shocked to find he didn't want to depart Orlais. It took him a minute to realize it was Kieran he didn't want to leave behind, worried as he was that he would lose track of him and never see him again.

"If I may be candid," Eamon continued, blissfully ignorant of the emotions warring in Alistair. "I would find it wiser if you didn't marry into such a weak royal family. It would only attract the Antivan Crows' attention—and influence—to Ferelden."

"Oh, but Antiva has such a rich history of royal bastards. I feel like I'd fit right in there."

He contemplated that idea quite seriously for a second before dismissing it. His visit there likely wouldn't go any differently than in the other royal courts.

Eamon looked around and drew closer, lowering his voice.

"I have heard some worrying rumors," he said.

All jokes fled Alistair's mind. Had Kieran's identity got out somehow? If Eamon knew then the Orlesians knew, and that meant Kieran was in danger.

"About what?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"There is talk some Orlesians are plotting against you," Eamon said grimmly. Alistair, on the other hand, felt all but relieved. "I don't know any names yet but I would advise you to double the number of guards by your chambers."

Alistair shrugged.

"What's a trip in Orlais without an assassination attempt, right?"

"Just be careful," Eamon said seriously as they came to a stop in front of the stables, obviously disapproving of his carelessness. "I'll be in the guest wing if you need me, Your Majesty."

Alistair watched him go and wished he would stop calling him by his title.

One of the stable boys took hold of his horse while Alistair dismounted, then lead the impressive Orlesian stallion away. Alistair kind of wished he could tack up and groom the horse himself to occupy his mind with something but that was apparently beneath his status now, especially when he was playing at being king outside Ferelden.

He strolled down the path leading to his suite, trying his best to dodge anyone who looked even slightly interested in talking to him. 

He was up a flight of stairs that lead to the entrance when he noticed Morrigan in the garden, engaged in a tense conversation with three Orlesian nobles. She stood tall and proud but it was obvious the Orlesians were trying to corner her. She was listening to them silently, looking as bored of their prattle as ever. Having been on the receiving end of such a conversation himself not half an hour before, Alistair almost felt sorry for her.

He leaned his elbows on the banister, trying to eavesdrop without being too obvious but they were being too quiet to hear. 

He could still hardly believe Morrigan would have ever been able to hold her tongue long enough to engage in court intrigue. She really must have changed if she had managed to keep her position as Celene's advisor for as long as she had, though judging by the Orlesians' expressions, it hadn't earned her much respect. One of them, an old man in an intricate mask who seemed oddly familiar, looked particularly disdainful as he whispered something to her with irritable hand gestures while the other two looked on passively.

Alistair caught her gaze when her eyes started wondering in boredom and he let his eyebrows jump imperceptibly. She looked away, back at the insistent Orlesian, leaving Alistair's silent question unanswered.

His amusement quickly faded when the nobleman placed a threatening hand around Morrigan's upper arm.

"Lady Morrigan!" Alistair called out, trying to wipe the sudden scowl from his face as he straightened up and jogged down the stairs. "I was hoping to find you here."

Morrigan's head whipped around, her surprise quickly replaced by a guarded expression.

"Your Majesty," she said carefully.

Alistair opened his mouth to tell some hastily fabricated lie when the Orlesian with an iron grip on Morrigan's arm started up again.

"Ah, the Fereldan king himself!" The man bended at the waist in the slightest bow he could possibly get away with. "A pleasure to meet you again."

"We've met?" Alistair asked, not bothering to hide his disinterest.

"I am Marquis Vitré", the man said with a cold, contemptuous glare from behind his mask. Alistair got the impression he expected to be recognized. "We have been introduced at the Empress's ball."

A vague memory flickered somewhere deep in Alistair's mind. Was this the old man who had tried to talk his ear off about the origins of his family? Alistair hoped he wouldn't start quizzing him about genealogy.

"Perhaps my lovely daughter has made more of an impression on you than I have," the Marquis said and motioned to the young woman next to him. "Don't be shy, my dear Celeste."

Alistair didn't remember Lady Vitré at all but she looked like she wanted to be there even less than he did. Most of the hopeful young ladies introduced to him had been quite eager to meet him but it had quickly become obvious that sometimes, the parents themselves were far more enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Your Grace," he said with a nod as the two of them exchanged sympathetic glances. "As fascinating as this discussion is bound to be, you'll have to excuse us. Lady Morrigan has promised me to, ah, advise me on an issue of a magical nature. It's a terribly embarrassing problem so I must talk to her in private."

He looked intently into Morrigan's eyes, silently hoping she would cooperate.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," she said dryly, inclining her head.

The Orlesians tittered quietly behind their backs as the two of them made their way down the gravel-covered path. Morrigan was silent for a while but as soon as they were out of earshot, she leaned closer to him.

"Must you keep drawing attention to me?" she hissed under her breath.

"I thought I was helping you, actually," Alistair replied. "From where I stood, it looked like they were threatening you."

Morrigan waved her hand dismissively.

"The court is abuzz with the news that the King of Ferelden was _distracted _by me when we were formally introduced to each other. Your further inquiries about me did not help."

"You heard about those too?"

"You were hardly subtle. You could not have made your interest any more obvious and the court naturally misunderstood your intentions."

"Is that why they were bothering you just now?" he asked with a frown. "Do they suspect anything? About me and Kieran?"

"I believe the current rumor claims Kieran is the son of an Orlesian nobleman or a chevalier, the secret all the more intriguing if the father is someone well-known at court. It would explain to them why I chose Orlais as my new home, at the very least."

"That's good."

Morrigan scoffed.

"'Tis not! You are a king rumored to be involved with a mage who has born the bastard son of another man."

Alistair was strangely amused by that mental image considering how much more scandalous the truth was. He cleared his throat and halted under a pergola that was positively overloaded with wisteria flowers in full bloom.

"I'm sure that's terrible for my reputation but I was wondering... can I see Kieran again?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Morrigan's surprise was quickly replaced by a ponderous look.

"You are getting attached," she said. "You are only going to cause yourself pain if you draw this out."

Alistair noticed she wasn't outright denying his request.

"Too late," he said with a cheeky grin. At her unamused expression, he added: "Please."

He watched her studying him, strangely aware of the scent of wisterias enveloping them.

"Come to my quarters tonight," she said as she turned to leave. "And take care that no one sees you."

His eyes followed her down the trail beneath the pergola until she safely made her way inside her rooms. 

A slight smile made its way onto Alistair's face. He would not get his hopes up but...

He shook his head, still smiling, and took towards his own suite to do something about his guards.

***

The evening air was warm enough to be pleasant, fresh with the fragrance of night-blooming flowers planted all around the garden. The vine-covered columns led to a small patio, warm light spilling onto the ground through the open door. Morrigan sat inside at a table with Kieran, several books open in front of them as she went through the motions of what seemed like simple spells, an occasional flickering of light twirling around her fingers. Kieran's Mabari was sleeping under the table, his ears twitching whenever Morrigan started explaining something about the spell she was performing.

Alistair leaned against a column as he watched them, a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth and a painful tightness in his chest. He wanted what they had. He wanted to be part of it, somehow, and yet he knew him stepping into that room would immediately ruin the atmosphere.

Kieran pointed at something in the book in front of them, drawing Morrigan's attention. Alistair couldn't quite follow their discussion of how the spell worked but he could tell both of them were in their element.

He was still trying to decide what he would say to them when Morrigan seemed to stiffen. Her yellow eyes lifted from the page, guarded and cold as she looked straight at him. He swallowed and pushed himself away from the column, nodding at her in greeting.

"Kieran, 'tis time to end today's lesson," she said to the boy, closing the book in front of her. "You may read something before bed if you wish so. I shall be back shortly."

Kieran uttered a quick 'Thank you, mother' and ran off, seemingly without noticing Alistair. Squire made a confused noise in his throat as he lifted his head, scrambling after the boy.

All softness fled Morrigan's eyes as she stepped out the door, shutting it behind her and crossing her arms.

"Is there a reason you chose to loiter around my quarters, Alistair?" she asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "I believe I asked you to avoid being seen."

"I was distracted," Alistair said, not rising to her bait. "I made sure no one was around to see me. A miracle, really, considering half of the court is after me at this point. I'm starting to think they won't let me leave Orlais without a friancée on one arm and a not-so-secret mistress on the other."

"I am surprised Celene herself has not offered," Morrigan mused. "She seemed quite willing to marry your brother."

"Cailan was probably a better catch," he said with a shrug.

Morrigan clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"You insist on living in the memory of his shadow yet you are everything your dunce of a royal brother dreamed of being."

Alistair snorted.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

Morrigan made an impatient gesture with her hand.

"You are a Grey Warden, a hero, a vanquisher of the Bligh who fought the Archdemon and triumphed, and now you are the warrior king of your paltry little country. I dare say the darkspawn did Ferelden a favor by felling King Cailan in battle."

Alistair wanted to argue—it was cruel of her to talk about Cailan like that—but he was too bewildered by the praise. Was that really how she saw him? Was she trying to manipulate him? To what end, he didn't know. 

He shook his head with a disbelieving smile.

"I wanted to talk to you about something in private," he said, just to get back on familiar ground.

Morrigan hummed, looking him over as she stepped around him.

"Very well. What is it that you wish to talk to me about?"

Alistair took a deep breath, turning to follow her as she made her way under the vine-covered columns. The small courtyard that led to her rooms was completely deserted, the silence only broken by the sound of crickets.

"I have an offer for you," he said.

Morrigan's eyebrows shot up.

"You do? I am intrigued."

"I know you said I shouldn't worry about Flemeth and the Orlesians but I do and I think I could help."

Morrigan stopped walking and turned towards him. Half of her face was obscured by dark shadows, the light of the lanterns illuminating the garden not quite reaching the corner they were standing in.

"I have protected him well enough all these years," she said. "You were not meant to meet him, let alone take care of him."

"That was then," Alistair replied. "Our circumstances have changed."

If he wanted to be honest with himself, they both had changed, in ways he never would have expected from either of them.

"Obviously," Morrigan said dryly. "Your title might be enough to give the Orlesians pause but you would have to be a fool to think you could shield him from Mother."

"How I missed that rapier tongue of yours," he said, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. "And here I thought you would see the opportunity in it. It'd be safer than Orlais or alone in the Wilds, and you wouldn't have to hide that he's your son. You could even teach him magic openly now."

Morrigan flinched and looked away, almost like she was embarrassed.

Alistair's eyes widened in realization.

"Kieran isn't a mage," he whispered. "I thought he was one because you were teaching him about magic but..."

"It should be a relief," she said. "Mother shouldn't have a use for someone like him. If he grew up to be someone inconsequential, maybe he could slip away from her grasp." Her voice grew hard. "But Mother isn't one to overlook potential pawns like that. I do not trust her to let Kieran out of her sight just because he has no magic of his own."

Alistair's mind was reeling. If Kieran was powerless against Flemeth, there was no saying what could happen to him in the future without Morrigan's protection. He would ultimately be at Flemeth's mercy until the end of his life.

Alistair couldn't let that happen.

"If he were to succeed me on the throne—"

"_No_." The word burst from her like a wide-eyed gasp and yet her voice was firm and deep with restrained anger. "Do you think me dense? I know he would be taken away from me as soon as I admitted who his father is." She gathered up her skirts with a jerk and stepped around him. "I do not need your help if the price is Kieran himself."

"Do you think I'd do that?" he asked as he strode after her. "Take him away from the one person who was there for him all along? Do you really think I'd be that cruel to either of you?"

Morrigan halted, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"No, Alistair. 'Tis the people at your court I do not trust."

"I am their king," he snarled with more conviction than he usually felt. "Whoever tried to hurt him would die by my own hands."

Her eyes widened a fraction. 

"Intriguing," she said slowly and she didn't sound sarcastic at all.

It occurred to Alistair he had never seen her direct that weirdly curious look at him before.

"Just ask him," he said, trying not to sound like he was pleading.

Morrigan shook her head.

"He shall say yes because he wants to be with his father, not because he wants the throne. He isn't old enough to understand what it could cost him later."

Alistair ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"So what if he does want to be with his father? At least give him the chance to tell you what he needs."

When she didn't react, he reached out and took hold of her upper arm, gently turning her around to face him. She looked at him defiantly, standing close enough that the hem of her skirt brushed against his boots. Alistair could feel her breath fanning over his neck, those sharp yellow eyes studying him intently. He swallowed but held her gaze.

"Power. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? The power to survive. And that's what you must want Kieran to have too, right? I can give him more power than anyone else. He will have an army serving under him, mages to answer his every call, and the status to make all of Ferelden invested in his survival. It may not be magic but I'm offering him the next best thing."

Something flashed in her eyes, hunger and greed and desperation, a caged animal finally making its escape, but it was gone a moment later like it was never there, the spark of hope crushed mercilessly.

"Your nobles would never—"

"Mother?"

They both fell silent, staring at each other with wide eyes as Kieran's voice sounded from the shadows of the alcove.

"Kieran," Morrigan said and swallowed hard. "Why didn't you wait for me in your room?"

The boy was peaking out from behind a column of the archway, his small hands clutching the stone. His Mabari stood behind him, looking up at him curiously.

"Is King Alistair really my father?" Kieran asked uncertainly.

Morrigan's eyes slid shut in resignation.

"Yes, Kieran," she said quietly.

Alistair watched them wordlessly, all too aware of their distress. He wanted to fix it, somehow, but he still felt like an outsider who had no right to stick his nose in their business.

"You could have said so," Kieran continued. "I wouldn't have told anyone if it's a secret."

"I know, little man."

Kieran seemed to hesitate, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

"Am I in trouble now?" he asked. Squire whined next to him pitifully.

"No, you are not," Morrigan said. "Your _father_, on the other hand, is."

"What did he do?" Kieran asked.

"He has been hounding me like the stubborn fool that he is."

"Like grandmother?"

Morrigan paused.

"No," she said quietly and looked at Alistair. "He is nothing like her."

Alistair held her gaze. There was something gratifying about hearing her say it, knowing that she didn't think as contemptuously of him as he had thought.

"Come," Morrigan continued. "Let us get back to our quarters. Even the walls have ears here."

"Can father come with us, too?" Kieran asked.

Morrigan locked eyes with Alistair. He met her silent question with an eager nod.

"You may stay a while if you are so inclined," she said, turning to guide Kieran back toward their rooms. "I see no reason to bar you from seeing him just because I think this plan of yours is foolish."

"It's not foolish," Alistair said stubbornly as he reached out to push some low-hanging vines out of their way as he slowly walked after them.

The courtyard was still blissfully quiet, secluded enough from the rest of the palace gardens that he hoped no one would stroll by on accident. Just to be safe, he glanced around as they reached Morrigan's quarters before he stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

Kieran walked past the stacks of books still on the table to the far side of the room and hopped on the big armchair in front of the fireplace like he had done it a million times before. Squire did his best to worm his way between the legs of the chair but it was obviously a tight fit. The dog let out a sad whine but settled down, laying his head on his paws and staring up at the three of them with worried eyes.

Morrigan moved to busy herself with putting their books back on the shelves.

"Think about it, Morrigan," Alistair whispered as he watched her. "If Kieran was the crown prince, harming him would be an act of war. Celene doesn't want a diplomatic conflict so soon after having to put down an uprising and a coup. He'd be almost untouchable."

Morrigan turned towards him and leaned against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. She regarded him with a thoughtful look, obviously considering his offer.

"Why not simply marry someone and sire another child?" she asked, voice quiet enough that Kieran would have trouble understanding them. "Surely it would be easier than _this_."

Alistair shrugged his shoulders in a vain attempt to look nonchalant.

"You know how it is. You marry a noblewoman, you sire an heir to succeed you on the throne, then before you know it the heir is slain in a bloody battle against the darkspawn and your bastard son is dragged out of obscurity to take his place even if he doesn't want to." He gave her a wry smile. "Kieran deserves more than that."

Morrigan's eyes softened, something like sadness shining in their depth for a moment.

She turned her head to look at Kieran. He was sitting silently by the fire, almost too well-behaved, yet Alistair could see the worried glint in his eyes as he watched them intently.

"Just look at him," Alistair said quietly. "Does he have anyone else to turn to if something happens to you? Anyone at all?"

Morrigan remained silent, not taking her eyes off of Kieran. Then she took a deep breath, seemingly coming to a decision.

"Come here, Kieran."

The boy shot up from the chair, his Mabari's nails clicking loudly on the floor as he scurriedafter him. Alistair watched with an amused smile as the dog came to a skidding halt by his feet, Kieran right behind him, a hopeful expression on his face.

"Will you stay with us?" he asked.

Alistair glanced at Morrigan uncertainly.

"That's up to your mom. But since you're leaving the court soon, maybe you—both of you—could stay with me instead?"

Kieran looked at Morrigan with pleading eyes.

"Mother, please."

The resolve in her eyes seemed to waver for a moment. She must have felt trapped. Alistair knew he wouldn't have been any happier having to choose between Orlais, Ferelden, and Flemeth but he also knew exactly which poison he'd pick.

She looked down at Kieran, smoothing a stray lock of hair from his face. 

"If this is truly what you wish." 

The boy smiled and nodded.

Alistair felt the tightness in his chest ease. Maybe this could work, maybe history wouldn't have to repeat itself.

He was about to reach out and fluff up Kieran's hair when Morrigan turned to him, a stern expression on her face.

"I shall agree to your terms if you can assure me of the nobles' support. In the meantime, do try to keep it a secret from the Orlesians," she warned, back to her usual biting tone. "And you cannot spoil him."

"Not even a little bit?" he asked, fully intent on teasing her. "I seem to remember _you _enjoying opulence. Something about noble ladies and a golden mirror? I could get you one of those, you know."

"You truly are a hopeless buffoon," she scoffed and crossed her arms, yet Alistair got the impression she was protesting too much. 

He huffed out an amused laugh, thoroughly entertained by her ire, and put an arm around Kieran's shoulders, drawing him toward the chairs by the fireplace. Crown prince or not, he was still set on enjoying time with his son, politics be damned.

He caught Morrigan watching the two of them multiple times throughout the evening but she always looked away, busying herself with packing up various items around the room. It seemed like she was still planning to leave court, though now Alistair hoped their destination would be the same.

When it got late enough that Kieran's bedtime could no longer be ignored, Alistair reluctantly let himself be herded to the door by Morrigan, fully expecting to get it slammed in his face. Instead, she leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, and stared at him.

"Are you certain this is what you desire?" she asked pointedly. "You shall not be able to change your mind once people learn of his identity."

Alistair nodded without hesitation.

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

She continued to study him before standing up straight.

"Very well. We shall discuss the details once you have the nobles' support." She moved to close the door but stopped, looking back at him. "I... appreciate your intentions, foolish as this plan may be."

Without waiting for his reply, she withdrew into her rooms, the intricately decorated door closing behind her with a soft click.

Alistair's shoulders sagged with a relieved sigh. He looked up at the building in front of him, absently studying the vines running up the walls, all the way to Morrigan's latticed windows. Lights and shadows were dancing inside her rooms as she moved around, no doubt trying to get Kieran to sleep. Alistair wondered if she would hex him if he went back inside and offered to help with that.

Then he heard the crunching of gravel somewhere behind him and he froze, his hand sliding to his belt, to the comforting weight of a dagger hidden under the pelts of his armor. He turned around, his eyes searching the darkness until they landed on two elven servants standing on the other side of the courtyard by the entrance of the kitchens, whispering to each other while watching him. They stiffened when he locked eyes with them and quickly made their way inside.

Alistair let his hand slide away from his dagger, relaxing only slightly. Not even the prospect of a scandal was going to ruin his mood but he hoped his future self would be ready to deal with the spectacular problem this was shaping up to be.

***

Alistair dragged himself up the stairs leading to his suite on lead-heavy legs. The building was still brightly lit despite the late hour, though it was thankfully empty save for his guards.

He sighed when Eamon came into view, waiting for him by his door with his arms crossed and a worried scowl on his face.

"Let me guess, it's another Grand Duke making an offer I can't refuse," Alistair said as he finally reached the top of the stairs. "Or perhaps more trade talks? Tea parties? Don't go easy on me, I can take it."

"Worse," Eamon said grimly but refused to say any more until they made their way inside Alistair's suite.

A goblet of wine in hand, Alistair shepherded them to the impressive terrace of his suite, not quite done with enjoying the warm night air just yet. He wanted at least a bit of comfort with the bad news he was no doubt about to receive.

"I should have let Teagan handle this," Eamon said as he leaned on the banister. "He always had more of a talent for Orlesian politics."

Alistair blinked in surprise before coming to a stop next to him.

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

Eamon shook his head.

"I don't even know how bad it is yet. The plot I mentioned, it might be an assassination attempt or a plan to ridicule you in front of the entire court. I wanted to find out more but..."

"I sure hope it's the former," Alistair said when Eamon trailed off. "I can handle myself in a fight better than in a battle of wits."

Eamon remained silent and morose. Alistair watched his profile with a concerned frown on his face, taking a careful sip of his wine. The man had been old even back then when the Blight had ravaged Ferelden but he had stood tall and proud on the battlefield, a formidable warrior who could take on the Archdemon itself and walk away on his own two feet. He seemed fragile now, brittle, his back not quite as straight, his hands not quite as steady as they were in Alistair's memories.

Ever since Duncan's death, he was the closest thing to a father Alistair had. He knew comparing the two of them was a bad idea, something that was bound to bring him nothing but misery. He had buried Duncan. He had buried Duncan every day since Ostagar. He had tried to forget, to close that chapter of his life and move past the hurt.

He looked down into his goblet with a frown, the wine suddenly sour in his mouth.

"I suggest you choose a wife quickly," Eamon said, jolting Alistair out of his thoughts. "The sooner you can get her with child, the sooner ploys like this become futile. That is the only way to make sure this matter is resolved and Ferelden doesn't sink into chaos upon your departure to the Deep Roads."

Alistair's mood turned rotten. Still leaning on the banister, he turned toward Eamon.

"How is Connor?" he asked, his voice flat. "Has he moved back to Redcliffe?"

Eamon looked surprised at the sudden change of topic.

"He is well," he said slowly. "He is staying in the castle for the time being."

"It must be nice, seeing your son again after so long," Alistair said without breaking eye contact. "If I was in your place, I'm sure I'd have sent Divine Victoria a crate of wine by now as a thank you gift for dissolving the Circles. Or a nice pair of shoes. I hear she likes those."

"It has been pleasant indeed, though it poses some... unexpected challenges."

"Such as?" Alistair prompted when Eamon halted and took a long sip of his wine.

"I feel as if I don't know the young man he had grown up to be. He seems troubled. Self-hating, if I want to be honest. Sometimes I wonder if we have doomed him to a life of misery by sending him to the Circle after what happened at the castle." Deep sadness filled his eyes, his head bowed over his tightly laced fingers. "A child's mind is such a delicate thing. One must truly treat them with the utmost care."

"And yet you were in favor of the ultimatum," Alistair said bitterly. "How does treating a potential child like a piece in a political chess game fit into this new philosophy of yours?"

Eamon looked up at him, taken aback, but seemed to reorient himself quickly.

"I know this is hard for you, Alistair, but—"

"What if it's another bastard?"

"Excuse me?"

Alistair looked at him, his eyes hard.

"What if my firstborn was a bastard? What would happen to him if I sired a legitimate child? Would you treat him the same way you treated me, shunned off to the side until he was suddenly useful?"

"Alistair..." Eamon turned to him, lowering his voice. "Are you implying you have an illegitimate son you haven't told us about?"

Alistair huffed out a bitter laugh and turned back to watch the lantern-lit garden below them. He really wasn't getting through to Eamon. The man was devoted to the Theirin line's survival even if it meant putting bastards on the throne and Alistair never doubted his loyalty but he could never shake the feeling Eamon didn't quite see him as a person.

"Yes, Eamon, that's exactly what I'm implying. I'm also telling you I want to recognize him as my heir."

"Alistair—"

"You are going to help me," Alistair stated and straightened up, looming over Eamon and looking him dead in the eye. "You owe me this much." He sucked in a breath through his teeth and forced his voice not to shake. "For everything, for every Maker-forsaken thing I've done for Ferelden and you failed to do for me, you are going to help me push this through the council."

Something flickered in Eamon's old eyes. Alistair chose to believe it was a pang of regret.

"First things first," Eamon said quietly, "I'd like to meet your son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the Fade sequence in DAI supports the idea that Kieran is a mage but I wanted to play around with a worldstate where he isn't. (He will be one in another multichaptered fic of mine but we don't talk about that yet.)


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair was just about to enter his suite when the sounds of a commotion hit his ears. He turned around to find Morrigan weaving her way past his men up the grand stairs leading to his quarters, her skirts swishing around her violently. She approached him like a rising storm, two guards marching behind her in a vain effort to keep her in line but she was ignoring their consternated pleas for her to stop. Alistair nodded at them to let her be.

"I don't suppose you came for a pleasant chat?" he asked.

"Your blatant disregard of your suitors has angered many at court and they decided the best way to deal with that is to threaten _me_," she spat.

"Alright, so unpleasant chat it is. Let's do this somewhere more private, shall we?"

The royal suite was Orlesian in every sense of the word, loudly opulent with marble, mahogany and fine brocades covering every surface in every room. Morrigan was clearly more used to it than he was given that she marched into his quarters without a second glance at the furnishings. She stopped by the imposing desk that stood next to the entrance of the terrace, her back turned to him, and seemed to pause when she noticed the little collection of statues and dragon figurines standing on his desk. She hummed, picking up a statue of a slender woman in flowing robes, a flame chiseled out of blue sapphire dancing on the palm of her hand. Morrigan turned it this way and that, studying it with a mixture of bafflement and apparent boredom.

"How do you claim to be fascinated by magic when you are so suspicious of everyone who practices it?" she asked, her eyes not leaving the small figurine.

Alistair walked up to her with a sigh and took hold of her hands, taking the statue and placing it back in its usual place.

"Quite easily as it turns out. Now, what was it about the Orlesians threatening you?"

She withdrew her hands and turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Apparently, I am seducing you," she said with exasperation, her put-upon voice reminding him of her old self.

"Y-you are?"

"'Tis what every other noble lass who thought she could get to you first is claiming now."

"Is this a bad time to mention I'm pretty sure one of the servant girls made a pass at me this morning?"

Morrigan merely rolled her eyes and walked toward the window.

"I care not for their petty meddling but I kept Kieran's connection to me a secret for a reason. The secret got out after my time with the Inquisition but I hoped to remove myself from court before it became a problem."

"But then I showed up," Alistair said.

"Indeed, and now I have received an unsigned letter urging me to leave you be if I don't desire to endanger Kieran," she said and held up a piece of parchment.

Alistair's eyes widened and he grabbed at the letter, unfolding it with jerky movements.

"Do they know that he is...?"

"No, but they are convinced I am distracting you from your undoubtedly fascinating brides-to-be," Morrigan continued, "so in order to ensure you make the right choice and marry an Orlesian noble, distractions need to be removed."

"That's just so typical of Orlais," he huffed.

His eyes scanned the page, a worried frown making its way onto his face. The handwriting was neat and precise, the words eloquent and carefully chosen. Likely a noble's machinations, not that he expected otherwise.

"Some servants saw me leaving your quarters the other night," he said by way of an explanation as he glanced up at her.

"They have clearly drawn their own conclusions about the nature of your visit."

"I expected it to lead to gossip, not threats," he growled.

The paper creased in his angry grip but he wasn't in the mood to care. It was unfair. He finally had something good in his life, a wrong slowly being righted, but he couldn't go a day enjoying it without someone somewhere trying to ruin it.

He shot Morrigan a hard look.

"I'll take care of it."

***

In the following days, Alistair's men took a sudden liking to taking casual strolls and playing chess close to Lady Morrigan's quarters, including those four who were stationed at the entrance of her building every night. She bristled like a wet cat whenever she spotted them but not even she could argue they weren't useful. Some of them invited Kieran to play chess every once in a while, keeping him out of trouble without arousing too much suspicion, though Alistair was sure most of the court knew exactly what he was playing at. It fed the rumors but he hardly cared for any of it, not when it got him the chance to spend more time with Kieran. Morrigan too, and he was surprised to find he didn't dread having to see her either.

The Orlesians must have been determined to ruin every good thing in his life, though. That was what Alistair chose to believe anyway as he marched down to Morrigan's quarters in his shirtsleeves in the middle of the night, sheathed sword in hand and hair mussed from sleep. The sound of his men's boots thudded behind him, at least half a dozen of them following him.

The guards he had appointed to keep watch in front of Morrigan's door stood in the secluded garden, obviously waiting for him.

"What happened?" he asked tersely, glancing at a group of servants standing around, whispering among each other.

The guard captain stood at attention, eyes slightly too wide.

"Lady Morrigan came upon a pair of intruders in the middle of the night and hexed them, Your Majesty," he said, tense enough that Alistair suspected he feared he would be punished for his failure to protect them. "We have them neutralized now."

"Have you questioned them?"

"They're quite unconscious."

"Report the matter to Celene's men and find them a cell for the night."

He turned, leaving the bustling guards behind, and walked up to their quarters where Morrigan and Kieran were standing in front of the open door, Squire guarding them vigilantly. Alistair had to remind himself they were in public, surrounded by too many people to openly show affection for the boy.

"What really happened?" he asked them with a worried frown.

"I awoke to the sound of your hound barking up a storm in the hall," Morrigan said and let out a huff, looking down at the insistent dog nuzzling her hand. "Yes, I suppose you are a useful little mongrel after all," she said to the dog and reluctantly patted the Mabari's big head.

"Is this why you gave me Squire?" Kieran asked.

"Look at you, figuring out my cunning plan," Alistair said and smiled at him. "Have you two been getting along?"

"Yes," Kieran said. "Mother even lets him sleep by my bed at night."

"She does, huh?" Alistair aimed a knowing smile at Morrigan but she stubbornly avoided his gaze.

Alistair grinned to himself and tried to take a step forward but a sharp sound hit his ears and dirt flew up into his face. Squire snarled and lounged forward, barking at the top of his lungs. The guardsmen started shouting and Alistair reached for his sword, his head whipping around when he noticed an arrow lodged in the ground by his feet.

"Archer on the first floor terrace!" a guard shouted just as something zipped past Alistair's ear.

His eyes met Morrigan's and they both moved toward Kieran. Alistair threw an arm around his shoulders, trying to cover him as they made their way inside Morrigan's quarters. He barked an order at two guards to keep an eye on the boy before he was out the door again, searching for the assassin with the full intent to sink his sword into his guts to the hilt. He felt naked without his shield and members of the royal guard were shouting at him to get back inside but he ignored them. His blood was boiling at the thought of someone trying to tear his son away from him.

Morrigan cast a spell behind him that flew past the archer, just missing him as he vaulted over the railing of the terrace to land on a garden wall. His silhouette flashed in and out of sight between the trees and neatly-trimmed hedges, down the length of the wall.

Alistair ran towards the gate, his guards after him. The assassin paused before drawing his bow. Alistair mentally prepared himself to at least attempt to jump out of the way when he noticed the archer wasn't aiming at him.

"Morrigan!"

He was crowding her out of the way when pain exploded through his shoulder, his legs collapsing under him. He couldn't hold back the bitten-off cry that left him as he landed on the ground, his teeth knocking together upon impact.

His guards were shouting even louder now but he could hardly tell what was going on beyond the nauseating pain radiating through his body.

A cool palm cupped his cheek, angling his head to the side, pushing at his body until he was lying on his back, the weight of the arrow sticking out of his right shoulder shifting with every move.

"The archer—" he started haltingly but Morrigan shut him up with two fingers against his lips.

"—is on the run, your guards at his heels. Worry about yourself now."

His head fell back against the ground and he grit his teeth to stiffen a pained sound. He clutched at his injured shoulder but even that small movement brought a fresh wave of agony through him.

"In pain and bleeding out," he bit out. "This is so nostalgic!"

"You shall survive," Morrigan said confidently and rolled up the sleeves of her dress.

"No, no, I'm pretty sure I'm dying," Alistair gritted out between his teeth.

"I never realized you had a flair for the dramatics," Morrigan said as she examined the arrow lodged in his shoulder.

The squelch of flesh hit him before the pain did, ripping a hoarse cry from his throat. He clenched his jaw shut to cut off the sound and choke it down, too aware of his remaining men watching him, but the pain still flared through his entire body, sharp and merciless and inescapable.

Morrigan sat back with a satisfied smile and held up the arrow, the tip still dripping with blood.

"You're an evil, evil woman," Alistair said, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.

She chuckled darkly and placed a hand on his injured shoulder. Blue light flared up between them and slowly drained the worst of the pain away. Alistair sagged back against the ground in relief.

"Thank you," he sighed.

Morrigan pulled back slightly, a somber look crossing her face before it was replaced with her usual neutral expression.

"I shall finish healing you once you are safely back in your quarters. In the meantime, let us hope the arrow wasn't poisoned."

He wanted to question her cavalier attitude but his gaze fell on Kieran standing behind his guards, one hand resting on his Mabari's back as he watched Alistair with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Alistair said to him more seriously. "Are you alright?"

Kieran swallowed visibly and nodded.

"Help me up," Alistair said to the guard closest to him and shot Kieran a reassuring smile once he was upright.

"See? Everything's fine now," he said, trying not to let the pain show on his face.

Kieran didn't look convinced but he nodded anyway. Morrigan motioned for him to join them, her free hand cradling his head when he ran up to them. Alistair restrained himself from doing the same in front of so many onlookers, lifting a hand to cradle his injured shoulder instead.

"Whoever sent them will probably try again," he said to Morrigan quietly. "Come to my quarters and bring Kieran. It's the safest place in this viper's nest."

"Your Majesty, you have to think of your own safety first," the captain of the guard interjected. "If she is a target—"

"No need to finish that sentence, Captain. Make sure Lady Morrigan and her son enjoy our hospitality for the night. The rest of you, sweep the garden and check the building again. See if there's more of them. If the assassin is caught, question him thoroughly. I want to know who sent him."

The man seemed to hesitate but bowed stiffly, his eyes trained on the ground, before turning to leave and make the necessary arrangements. The rest of Alistair's guardsmen went on to carry out his orders as well, only a few remaining to keep watch over him.

They made their way back to his suite surrounded by guards, Squire weaving his way between everyone's legs. The guards took their posts around the hallway but Alistair was adamant about keeping them out of his rooms. A messenger came running after them just as they were about to enter Alistair's suite, bringing news that the assassin had been captured and, regrettably, killed in the chaos before he could be questioned. Alistair cursed under his breath but nodded and sent the messenger on her way.

"Your Majesty, are you sure this is wise?" the captain asked again.

"I'll be fine. Get some guards on the roof too and keep an eye out for assassins."

The man bowed with his lower arms crossed over his chest and left. Alistair breathed a sigh of relief as the door finally closed behind him and turned to Morrigan.

"I'll send for Eamon tomorrow morning but I want a bit of peace and quiet for the rest of the night."

"Does that mean everyone is gone now?" Kieran asked, staring up at them with wide eyes.

Alistair's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, yes, but why?"

Kieran walked up to him and hugged him. The breath left Alistair like he had been punched in the gut. He stared ahead of himself for a few seconds before he looked down at Kieran, slowly wrapping his arms around him. He had been so worried about losing the boy just when they were finally getting to know each other, he hadn't even thought about what Kieran must have felt seeing him have a brush with death.

"Hey," he murmured into Kieran's hair, "things are going to be better once we leave Orlais, I promise."

"Then why are we still here?" Kieran muttered into his chest.

Alistair felt a weight settle on his heart. The situation wasn't as simple as Kieran thought but staying after such an attempt at their lives was foolish. He needed to figure something out, something that would keep them safe, permanently.

It took a while but once Kieran calmed down, he settled down on a sofa with Squire curled up under it. Morrigan smoothed his hair out of his face before looking at Alistair.

"Let us finish healing your wound," she said and motioned with her chin to a lonely chaise on the terrace for him to sit.

Alistair hesitated for a moment before turning to do as she had said. The terrace was quiet, a few lanterns glowing warmly around him, basking the marble statues on the baluster in orange light. The guest wing towered over the surrounding buildings so Alistair was reasonably certain he wouldn't be turned into a pincushion from afar if another assassin was lurking about.

"As valiant as your deed was, it shall certainly get the tongues wagging," Morrigan said behind him as she followed him onto the terrace through the wide, open doors.

Alistair grunted as he gingerly lowered himself onto the chaise, still clutching at his shoulder.

"How much worse can the rumors get after this? Wait, no, don't answer that." He wasn't in the mood to try to lift his arm just to get out of his shirt so he simply tore the sleeve off with a sudden jerk. The fabric was stained with blood, still wet to the touch as he ripped the frayed armhole wider to expose the wound on his shoulder. "I don't get why they care so much. I mean, Orlais is so cavalier about... dalliances."

"They aren't scandalized by you supposedly having a mistress but by how bad you are at playing the Game and covering it up," Morrigan said calmly. She pulled up a chair from the terrace table and sat by the chaise, leaning closer to him to examine his wound, her touch surprisingly careful. Familiar blue light washed over him again and he let out an involuntery sigh as it eased the throbbing pain. "The problem isn't with you taking me to your private suite, 'tis with you not even bothering to hide it. Most of the people who are aware I am here think we are currently sharing your bed."

Alistair tried his best not to picture that in his head but failed. It didn't help how clear his memories of the ritual still were, the warmth, the sounds, the way she felt...

He cleared his throat, turning his attention to the details of her dress, studying the finely woven golden threads on her shoulder with great interest.

"It's not my fault they have an active imagination," he said.

"'Tis true, though if the gossips needed confirmation, taking an arrow for your supposed mistress was a fine one indeed."

Alistair moved to shrug but winced as pain shot through his body.

"Was I supposed to let them kill you? With Kieran watching?"

Morrigan paused but didn't look up at him as she continued to focus on the spell.

"No, and I am... grateful for what you've done."

Her voice was surprisingly warm, though it was obvious she was still uncomfortable with opening up. She was avoiding his eyes, head bent as she treated his wound, too caught up in the simple healing spell for someone as powerful as she likely was. Alistair studied her face, her downcast eyes shining in the light of the lanterns as she tended to his wound, stubbornly not meeting his gaze.

"You're welcome," he said, almost dazed.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, searching for something, anything else to talk about. He looked down at his chest, then back at his slowly healing wound.

"Looks like Ferelden was about nine inches away from a succession crisis, huh."

"This shall be a fine incentive for your nobles to realize how urgent the matter is."

"Which reminds me, I don't suppose you want to leave Orlais sooner after this? Preferably right now?"

She seemed conflicted, torn between choices that had the potential to be equally bad for Kieran; at least that was what it looked like to Alistair from the outside. He needed to figure something out, and soon. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving and taking Kieran with her, never to be seen again.

"How are the talks with your council going?" she finally asked.

"Eamon is still browbeating them into it. He made me promise I wouldn't try to help. Apparently, I'd just make convincing them harder."

Eamon had taken the news of Lady Morrigan being the bastard prince's mother surprisingly well—"I understand she is beautiful but... a mage, Alistair?"—though he still wasn't going to tell him about the ritual; Alistair figured that was a secret he was going to carry to his pyre.

"So this Eamon of yours is in the know?" Morrigan asked doubtfully.

"Yes, I... I had to tell him. He said he has made a few careful inquiries. We haven't told anyone else yet but in theory, some of them would support pretty much any child of mine if it meant an end to this uncertainty. There have been some land disputes with the Chasind that need our attention; they want to settle this as fast as possible."

"I doubt those who questioned your own legitimacy would support yet another bastard son on the throne."

Alistair paused. An idea popped into his mind, something he almost dismissed immediately. It was borderline impossible to make it work—but only borderline.

He looked at her, his gaze meeting hers.

"What if he was legitimate? What if we lied?"

Morrigan's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"How?"

Alistair licked his lips nervously, not quite believing what he was about to say.

"We could say we got married during the Blight, way before the Landsmeet decided to support me as king, and then, I don't know, you disappeared in the chaos of the battle in Denerim and I thought you and my unborn child were dead."

Her lips parted but no sound left her. Alistair was vaguely aware he had never once managed to render her speechless before.

"You have lost your mind," she finally said.

"Hey, the idea isn't _that_ bad."

"'Tis a foolish romantic notion you got into your head just because I am the mother of your child."

He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy but... don't think of it as a marriage. Think of it as an alliance to protect Kieran. It'd be one less strike against him."

She gave him a curious look.

"I was under the impression you were the type to marry for love."

"Kieran is more important than that."

"How unexpectedly pragmatic. It appears you have grown up some after all."

Alistair wasn't quite sure if he had become more mature or simply jaded.

"Think about it," he continued. "The nobles can't just kick you out of the palace if you're the queen consort. The marriage would be an insurance that you got to stay with Kieran."

"A mage shows up out of nowhere and claims to be not only the bastard prince's mother but also the lawfully wedded wife of the king despite being a commoner herself." She arched a sceptical eyebrow. "They would accuse me of manipulating your mind with blood magic before I could step into the halls of your castle."

"Leliana and Surana would vouch for us, I'm sure, I just need to send them some letters. We could even claim Leliana married us. People won't call the word of the Divine _and_ the Hero of Ferelden into question."

"That still leaves us with the problem of my parentage."

Alistair sighed.

"I'll have to make it worthwhile for the council members to support the idea but if Loghain got a noble title for his services to Ferelden then so can you. Actually, why don't I just use Loghain's estate? Divide it among those who support Kieran to sweeten the deal."

"Ah, politics. I wasn't sure you dabbled in it or just let the Arl rule through you."

Alistair shot her a sharp glance.

"I'm suddenly reconsidering this arrangement, you know," he said with mock hurt in his voice.

Morrigan didn't rise to his bait; instead, she took hold of his arm and lifted it enough to test the joint of his shoulder. Alistair grunted in surprise rather than pain.

"I shall think on your offer. That is all I can promise," she said and stood, the blue light of her spell slowly fading away.

Alistair watched her for a few moments, still perplexed by what he had just said, before he stood and lifted his arm to carefully roll his shoulder, assessing any remaining damage. The pain was gone, though the tension remained. He supposed that would have to disappear the natural way.

He took a few steps forward to peer over the ballustrade, checking on the guards patrolling the premises around the building but everything seemed to be quiet. Alistair wondered if they had caught every assassin or if almost killing the king instead of their original target was such a monumental blunder they had decided to retreat for the time being.

"You surprise me, Alistair," Morrigan said behind him suddenly.

Alistair glanced back at her, noticing that Kieran had fallen asleep behind her on the plush sofa, the floor-length curtains framing him, swaying in the gentle night breeze. As much as Alistair hated wasting his time in Orlais, his quarters back in Denerim had felt so much emptier.

He brought his attention back to Morrigan.

"How so?" he asked.

"It would seem you are more, let us say, steeled than I remember."

A sly smile pulled at his lips.

"Oh, look at that, the witch paid me a compliment. Admit it, the real Morrigan got snatched up in the jaws of a stray Archdemon and you're just an impostor."

"You are impossible," she scoffed and turned to head back inside.

Alistair's amused smile widened and he followed after her, stopping by the sofa Kieran was sleeping on. He watched him for a few moments, his smile softening. Sometimes he still found himself quietly marveling at the thought that he had a child. It used to cause him nothing but unease and a vague sense of guilt but now it was a source of awe.

"He cannot sleep here," Morrigan said on a low voice as she closed the doors of the terrace. "We should wake him so he can rest in a proper bed."

"No, wait. Let me just..." Alistair murmured quietly as he scooped up Kieran, wincing when the boy mumbled something in his sleep.

With the pain gone from his body, Alistair realized how utterly exhausted he was but he still hoped he had enough strength left in him to take his son to his room. He carried the sleeping boy through an open side door, laying him gently on the bed and arranging the covers around him. Morrigan was leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, watching them.

"I really should have done this sooner," Alistair whispered.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow in question but he simply shook his head and straightened up. He made his way past her to leave the room, vaguely aware of her turning to follow him with a last glance at Kieran.

The door closed behind them with a soft click. Alistair leaned back against it tiredly, the tension finally draining from his body. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind drowsy and slow.

"So... where are _you_ sleeping?" he murmured.

"One of your empty rooms shall suffice. I must admit, the royal suite looks quite comfortable," she said, her rich voice washing over him, so much more pleasant when she wasn't using it to mock him with sharp, biting words.

"Mmm, the silk sheets do feel nice."

Morrigan got one of those weird, amused looks in her eyes, the one that made him feel like he was making a fool of himself without realizing it, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I shall put up some wards before retiring for the night," she said. "Good night, Alistair."

He watched as she walked away and found himself wishing she didn't.

"Good night, Morrigan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter set in Orlais, then we're going to Ferelden—where the real fun begins.
> 
> Btw, I made a [Dreamwidth account](https://flockofcrows.dreamwidth.org/) because I was tired of all the wank on social media. It's a slow site but also blissfully calm. The sidebar has a word count tracker for both _The Fool Would Be King_ and _A Bouquet of Nettles_ in case anybody wants to check how far along I am with the next chapter (and also for myself because boy, do I need it). The final 20k/25k word counts are educated guesses but I'm known to underestimate how long a fic of mine will be, so I may bump those up if needed.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was already rising when Alistair poked his head into Kieran's room just long enough to check if he was alright. The boy was still fast asleep, the pale morning sunlight filtering into the room barely reaching his prone form on the bed.

There had been no more signs of assassins throughout the night but Alistair couldn't help feeling worried. He had woken after a fitful sleep and the first thought to pop into his mind had been an image of both Kieran and Morrigan lying dead in their beds. Trying to fight the rising panic in his chest, he had scrambled out of his room in little more than his breeches, only to come face to face with Morrigan calmly sipping tea by the window.

That had been an embarrassing way to start the morning. Probably not a good omen but if his plan went well, they wouldn't have to suffer this place for too long.

He smiled at Kieran and pulled back, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.

"He's still asleep," he said to Morrigan when he turned around.

"I told you so," she said. "You worry too much."

She was still standing by the window, already dressed, her eyes not leaving whatever she was looking at outside.

"They gave me a good enough reason," Alistair said and walked closer to her. "Whoever sent you that letter was probably behind it."

"Most likely," she said. "Although you never know in Orlais."

"Which is why I want us to leave as soon as possible," he said as he came to a stop behind her.

Morrigan crossed her arms with a huff.

"I don't expect to be treated better in Ferelden."

"You will be," he said firmly. "Alas, you'll have to pay the terrible price of being my wife while we play at being a couple."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"If you didn't insist on being foolish, your charm would be quite a weapon to use in diplomacy."

"What makes you think I'm not already using it?" he asked with a knowing smile, though he was unsure whether they were still being sarcastic or if she had meant it in earnest.

An annoyed little line appeared between her brows.

"Why would you—" she started but there was a sharp knock on the door and both of them looked up in surprise.

"Come in," Alistair said with a disappointed sigh, frowning at the door in annoyance.

The door flung open, Eamon storming in with a flurry, his coat flowing behind him like the wings of a very angry dragon.

"Why was I only informed this morning that you nearly died?" Eamon asked sharply.

Alistair turned towards him slowly.

"I wasn't anywhere near dead yesterday, although I did wake up with a terrible crick in my neck," he replied, trying not to feel like a scolded child.

Eamon sighed and seemed to deflate.

"Be serious, Alistair," he said more gently. "An attempt on your life is not something you should shrug off. The nobles are incenced. Bann Claudin is calling for retaliation."

"That bad?" Alistair asked and failed to correct Eamon about who the real target was.

Not only was it bad, the Fereldan delegation was on high alert, convinced it had meant to be an attempt on Alistair's life even after members of the royal guard had attested Lady Morrigan had been the original target. The assassination attempt had apparently angered the Orlesians too, to the point that the atmosphere of the court had become even more mistrustful than it usually was. Alistair was certain they were just miffed their chance of marriage had fallen through.

"If you are truly serious about putting your bastard on the throne, now would be the best time to gain the nobles' support," Eamon said. "Most of the Banns are demanding we leave Orlais posthaste and call off any possibility of a marriage to House Valmont or any other noble family in Orlais."

"Yeah, I don't think they have to worry about that anymore," he said and looked at Morrigan.

"Lady Morrigan," Eamon said with a nod, almost like he hadn't noticed her earlier. Almost. He glanced at Alistair's barely dressed form questioningly before continuing. "How fortunate to see you here."

Alistair could hear the subtle disapproval in his voice.

"Empress Celene was quick to assure me the assassins didn't act on her orders," Eamon continued. "Now to decide if we actually believe her. She has also invited you to another ball, presumably to smooth things over before this conflict could escalate between our nations. It might also be a trap, of course."

Alistair looked at Morrigan questioningly.

"You know Celene better than I do. What do you think?"

Morrigan's eyebrows shot up in surprise for a moment but Alistair couldn't imagine why.

"If I were in her position, I would not risk angering you by killing your mistress," she said. "If her goal was to unite House Valmont and the Theirin bloodline, this incident placed her at a disadvantage. While she does not discuss her every intention with me, I've seen no sign of her planning to dispose of you—or me—so I am inclined to believe she is sincere in her attempt at reconciliation."

Alistair nodded slowly. Trap or no trap, he certainly didn't want to seem like he was running away with his tail between his legs.

He turned to Eamon.

"I'll hear her out but I've fulfilled the demands of the ultimatum. We can pack up and leave as soon as possible."

"I still think this is unwise," Eamon said. "Are you certain it's worth the risk?"

"It's worth everything."

Eamon kept eye contact with him before nodding slowly.

"Good luck, Alistair, from the bottom of my heart," he said and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

"Sooo... that sounded promising?" Alistair said, balancing on his heels for a moment. "You want to get into discussing the nitty-gritty details now or should we get to it after breakfast? I'm famished."

Morrigan walked closer, a serious look on her face.

"I only want you to know this: no matter what happens, I shall not be separated from Kieran. If you or your pesky nobles even think about removing me from his presence, I shall turn into a dragon and burn Denerim to the ground myself."

His smile slowly faded from his lips as he realized what a risk she was taking. Whether she could actually turn into a dragon or not, he fully believed she could wreak enough havoc to rival the archdemon.

"I won't let it happen. You're one frustrating witch but I'd never tear our son away from you."

"Perhaps 'tis foolish of me but I believe you. Your council, however, I do not trust. If they find out the truth, they might riot."

That was true. There would no doubt be questions to answer and the nobles would be watching them like hawks, expecting Morrigan to have manipulated her way into power. One mistake would be enough for their charade to come tumbling down and Morrigan would be thrown out of the castle posthaste, if not executed.

Unless he married her for real. It would have to be in secret and he would have to convince Leliana to falsify when the ceremony took place but it could be done. He was surprised how little the idea bothered him. At this point, it didn't seem like a big change to their plans.

"I'll keep them in line," he said simply.

Something sparked in her eyes, a hint of approval or satisfaction, that put Alistair's mind at ease. Perhaps this could work. Perhaps he wasn't making a huge mistake out of a sense of desperation and loneliness.

"The Orlesians shall be appalled I'm moving back to your country that smells of wet dog," she said.

"No need to make it sound so bleak. Denerim may not be as dazzling as the Orlesian court but your life will mostly stay the same."

He could feel a warm puff of air against his neck as she scoffed softly.

"Indeed, but I shall be married to a fool like you." Her tone wasn't quite as biting as it used to be, her teasing less mean-spirited. "Although, I suppose I could suffer worse fates than that."

To his surprise, Alistair felt the same way.

***

Alistair arrived to the ball in full armor and with his shield strapped to his back, his ceremonial sword cast aside for one that had seen plenty of real battles. He hoped the pointed symbolism wasn't lost on the Orlesians. His guards flanked him, armored to the teeth.

He had expected a small gathering but it was another ball because Orlesians apparently couldn't do anything without fanfare and pomp. The chandeliers lit up the place so brightly Alistair felt the urge to shield his eyes as he stepped into the crowd.

The large doors let in the sweet night air, a gentle, warm breeze bringing with it the smell of moonflowers and night-blooming jasmines. Music and laughter filled the hall and Alistair felt almost relieved that the Orlesians carried on with their revelry like nothing had changed.

"You're in remarkably good shape for someone who has been nearly killed, Your Majesty," one of the masked nobles spoke up next to him out of the blue. He actually sounded sincere, if a bit pretentious.

"As luck would have it, Lady Morrigan was there to heal me," Alistair said and smiled, certain he was only fanning the flames by making the rumors worse.

"Ah yes, very lucky indeed," the Orlesian acquiesced with a small bow but he was looking over Alistair's shoulder at something.

Alistair couldn't help but turn around too, noticing Morrigan ambling along the first floor balustrade, her dress tinted dark as the midnight sky, jewels like stars shimmering on her skirt. Alistair had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her.

"She is a true beauty, isn't she?" the noble asked and Alistair blinked as he turned back to him, not quite remembering the point of the conversation.

"Always has been," he said, then finally righted himself. "Kind of prickly, though."

"But good enough at the Game to have earned her place as Her Imperial Majesty's advisor." He took a sip of his wine, hiding his knowing smirk under his thin mustache. "And now it seems she has fixed her eyes on a different monarch."

Alistair would have believed that accusation when he had first stepped into the palace. Not anymore, though. He was certain her love of their son overrode any desire of power she may have had.

"Let's just say you don't know her like I do. Stay for a while, you'll understand."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. And just to be safe, I would advise against drinking from the champagne," the noble said cheekily, then took an exaggerated bow and sauntered away.

Alistair huffed in annoyance. He hated this court. Even the friendly ones made him feel like he was missing some joke they were sharing at his expense. He turned to walk back to his guards when a hand snagged at his lower arm nervously only to withdrew just as quickly as if in apology. Alistair looked up, somewhat confused to find Celeste Vitré by his side.

"Can I help you, Your Grace?" he asked, fearing he would be barraged by an earnest proposal of marriage after all.

"This is embarrassingly forward but I would like to speak with you somewhere more private, Your Majesty," she said with a slight nod. "It isn't what you think," she added quickly.

"Well, that's... somewhat reassuring," he said and looked around nervously.

He felt like he was being watched, the nape of his neck prickling, but he couldn't actually spot anyone paying attention to them. He motioned at a dark alcove close to the servant quarters nevertheless, away from the crowd.

"I need to speak of my father with you," Lady Celeste continued, clasping her hands in front of herself, her fingers twisting around each other in agitation. "I'm worried he has done something terrible."

That got Alistair's attention.

"Something terrible?" he asked and guided her deeper into the alcove, away from prying eyes.

"I was heading into his study to talk to him about... personal matters, but I overheard him and my brother talking to someone in there. They were making plans to have a lady killed."

The breath stuttered in Alistair's lungs.

"Are the rumors true then?" Lady Celeste continued. "Talk at court says assassins attempted to murder you but some are claiming Lady Morrigan was the real target. I wouldn't want to presume that—"

She seemed to catch herself just in time but Alistair could guess what she was trying to hint at. There wasn't a single person at court who didn't know he regularly spent time with Morrigan; a secret relationship didn't seem like a far-fetched idea.

"So you suspect your father is behind Lady Morrigan's... accident," he stated rather than asked.

Celeste nodded nervously.

It made sense. The Marquis had acted forceful enough, giving them more reason for suspicion than anyone else.

"Do you think your father will show up tonight?"

"I cannot say but it would be a great humiliation to him if it got out he was behind it all. Failing at an assassination attempt would make him appear incompetent."

Ah, yes, incompetent. That was truly the worst thing one could say about the Marquis in the situation at hand. Alistair truly couldn't wait to leave Orlais behind.

"I wouldn't want to tarnish your name, Your Grace, but—"

"My name will be tarnished soon either way," she cut in. "Do as you will with my blessing."

Alistair frowned, confused, but nodded anyway.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Are you going to be alright?"

"Just don't tell anyone you heard it from me."

"You helped more than you imagine. If you need anything in the future, you know where to send the letter."

She thanked him profusely and exited the alcove, looking around nervously as she went.

Alistair leaned back against the marble wall and let out a sigh. He needed to let Morrigan know about what he had learned. He wanted to seek her out personally but he had agreed he wouldn't draw attention to her or Kieran until it was time to confirm their marriage in front of the court. Although, if he got a gossipy servant to deliver her a message, everyone in the room would soon know the truth.

Once he deemed enough time had passed since Lady Celeste had left, he walked out of the alcove too, flagging down the first servant he saw carrying drinks. He reached for one of the glasses, hesitating for a moment. He picked wine over champagne, just to be safe.

"Find Lady Morrigan," he whispered to the servant, "and repeat these exact words to her: Marquis Vitré did it."

Alistair slipped a gold piece into the other man's pocket for good measure. The servant stammered out a thank you and rushed off. Alistair figured half the court would know the truth within ten minutes.

A masked courier walked up to him soon after that. Alistair expected to hear from Morrigan but the courier informed him the Empress wished to talk to him in private before any official speeches were made. Alistair nodded and followed after him.

A short flight of stairs led to the Empress, away from the noise of the party and the glittering of the ornately decorated marble hall but close enough to provide a clear view of everything that was happening in the room. Celene looked remarkably imposing and confident for someone who was required by the rules of diplomacy to issue an apology and make amends for something she hadn't done. At least Alistair hoped she didn't somehow have a hand in it.

"King Alistair," she greeted him with a polite but measured smile. "I wanted to assure you it wasn't by my orders that you were attacked. If we could make it up to you in any way..."

"Yes, about that—" he started before his eyes fell to an approaching figure behind Celene.

The blood started thudding in Alistair's ears as the Marquis appeared in the doorway, a forced smile just visible under his garish mask. Alistair wanted to throttle him on the spot but he told himself he needed to be patient and let the rumors already set in motion ruin the man.

"I'm ready to help in making reparations," said the Marquis as he walked up to them with hands clasped behind his back. Celene looked mildly annoyed behind her mask at the interruption. "It's a sign of my goodwill after such an unfortunate accident. I hope it didn't cause permanent damage."

Alistair seethed quietly.

"Lady Morrigan healed me," he said, deliberately tight-lipped.

"Ah, yes, Lady Morrigan. I heard about your daring rescue. I must caution you about her, though. I wouldn't be surprised if she was manipulating your mind. These mage types can do that."

"Fascinating," Alistair said flatly. "And when exactly did she start to manipulate my mind?"

"The moment you stepped inside the palace, I wager."

Alistair glanced at Celene to see her reaction. He wondered if she took offense to the implication that Morrigan could be manipulating her mind too but her face remained impressively neutral behind her mask.

"You realize I know Lady Morrigan from before we met here, right?" Alistair asked.

"I've heard about it, yes," said the Marquis haughtily. "Still, she has quite a reputation at court. One can't be careful enough."

"This has nothing to do with your apparent need to force your poor daughter on me, right?" Alistair asked with a careful lift of his eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. He was fairly certain he was doing this whole Game thing wrong but he was actually having fun with it for once. "I was a Templar. Even if I were to believe she is controlling my mind, I can nullify her magic whenever I want to. Would you care for a demonstration?"

Marquis Vitré made a sour face behind his mask and opened his mouth but Celene cut in before he could say anything that would have made Alistair see red. It was probably for the best.

"Perhaps we could discuss alternatives tomorrow," Celene said with a cold look at the Marquis before addressing Alistair again. "If you find your current prospects unsatisfactory, we could search for someone more to your taste. I hope we can come to an understanding even after such an unfortunate incident."

Alistair kind of doubted that. He was about to say so when two familiar figures descended the stairs behind Celene. Morrigan's hand rested on Kieran's shoulder, gently guiding the boy toward them.

"Actually," Alistair said and reached out a hand towards Morrigan as they had agreed. "I have what I came here for."

Morrigan took his offered hand and stood right next to him, turning towards the Empress and ignoring the Marquis altogether. From the corners of his eyes, Alistair could see some servants exchanging surprised glances.

"Pardon?" the Empress asked, as measured a response as Alistair could have hoped for.

He opened his mouth to deliver the little speech he had planned out in advance when Morrigan spoke up.

"A moment, if you will..." she said, the curious lilt to her voice making Alistair glance at her just as her lips met his.

Alistair stood there dumbfounded. They had agreed on acting like a couple in public but he had assumed kisses would be off the table with her. Had they misunderstood each other? Surely she didn't think she needed to seduce him?

The quiet gasps and excited chatter around the room brought him crashing back to reality, her intent behind the kiss becoming clear.

His lips parted under hers tentatively, moving against her despite his bewilderment. He placed a careful hand on her corseted waist, then thought better of his approach and wound his arm around her, pulling her roughly against him. He angled his head and her fingers slid into his hair, grabbing and pulling, the kiss deepening. He tightened his arms around her until her body was molded against his, his blood flushing with warmth. He barely had to fake his reactions with how starved he had been for someone else's touch as of late, the warmth of her body against his more comforting than he wanted to admit.

She broke the kiss with feigned reluctance, lips brushing against his as she spoke.

"_Now _you may tell them," she said quietly.

He looked around, clearing his throat as he became aware of dozens of masked faces staring at them in shock. Forwardness like that had probably broken some unwritten rule of the Game. Again.

"When I came to Orlais," he said to the Empress, voice raised enough that the people closest to them would hear him. "I thought myself a widower, my wife and child lost in the chaos of the battle at Denerim. I didn't expect to find either of them safe in your court. Thank you for reuniting me with my family. Consider the... accident that befell me forgiven."

From the corners of his eyes, Alistair could see Eamon slowly bury his face in his hands.

"I... understand," Celene said slowly, turning from him to Morrigan with a thoughtful look on her face. "Though I cannot claim I am not surprised."

Morrigan looked back at her impassively. Alistair dearly hoped the Empress wouldn't start interrogating Morrigan why she hadn't told her everything about her secret marriage to the King of Ferelden.

"Now that that's settled," he said with forced cheerfulness, "I'm looking forward to a long and harmonious relationship between our nations."

Celene seemed to hesitate before she finally nodded.

"It is more than I could hope for at the start of the evening," she said, though there was some resignation in her voice.

Alistair smiled what he hoped was his best charming smile at her.

"Thank you. You'll forgive me if I spend the rest of the evening with my family. We have a lot of catching up to do."

With one last withering glare at the confounded Marquis and the knowledge that his reputation at court would soon be hopelessly ruined, Alistair offered his arm to Morrigan. Her eyes flashed with the barest of hesitations before she rested her own arm on it, her other hand settling on Kieran's shoulder again.

"Quite the exit," she murmured as they walked down the stairs.

_Quite the kiss_, Alistair thought but he didn't want to discuss it in front of Kieran. Maybe later, when they finally had some privacy and no Orlesians whispering about them.

"I hope at least some of these pompous asses enjoyed it," he said through his teeth. "Including the Fereldan ones."

"Oh, I am sure some of them did," she replied.

A hint of a wry smile played at the corners of Alistair's mouth. Eamon had always hushed his disparaging comments; finally having an outlet for all his unfavorable thoughts about other nobles was cathartic.

Alistair's bodyguards were waiting for them by the entrance, surrounding them at Alistair's silent order as the three of them exited the vestibule, finally leaving the Orlesians and their pomp behind.

Alistair looked up at the starry sky and let out a relieved sigh.

"We should leave for Ferelden immediately," he said. "I was planning to depart tomorrow morning but I don't want to risk them trying anything."

"Can Squire come too?" Kieran asked.

"Of course, we wouldn't want to leave your best bodyguard behind." He then looked at Morrigan. "I'll let my men know to start getting ready. The other delegates can follow us tomorrow."

Morrigan was looking at him with curious eyes.

"'Tis done, then. It appears I am in need of new dresses. 'Tis cold in Ferelden after all."

"We'll get you the latest Fereldan fashions," Alistair said, some sort of satisfaction blooming in his chest.

"A good starting offer," she said with a carefully raised eyebrow.

Alistair faked a put-upon sigh.

"And I suppose enlarging the castle library would be an adequate marriage gift? I just know you'll want to hide from people there."

"'Tis... an acceptable gift. I am sure the current state of your library is abysmal."

"The spiders love it, considering all the cobwebs. You'll feel right at home there."

"Tease me and I might just turn into a giant spider and eat you in your sleep."

Could she do that? She could probably do that. Alistair swallowed and tried to remind himself he was doing this for a good cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to get to the next chapter. We're finally going to Ferelden!


End file.
